


Caravan Elseworlds: Paragon Pictures Presents

by spookyhat



Series: Caravan [4]
Category: DC Elseworlds, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Except It's The 1920's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28511067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyhat/pseuds/spookyhat
Summary: A series of film reels were discovered during the various aftermath events, including the Multiversity Event, and the Rebirth of Superman. They're a movie - the first reel is damaged, but the second was salvaged. It's shot like a gangster film, and apparently set during the 1920s. The contents are... strikingly similar to the past few months, though distinct in certain ways. Let's just say it's someone Else's World.-Amphora, Justice League File Memo #YT4150An original pastiche of a 1930s gangster film set in the preceding decade, following a group of young adults who go in way over their heads; Batman is there too.
Series: Caravan [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083623





	1. The Chase of a Lifetime!

The Crow, a black custom Ford, struck through the dark street, its engine purring, alien horsepower constrained by mortal steel. Its pilot, the same moonshiner that got them into this mess. With finesse, he cuts a tight drift into a thin alleyway, amber and scarlet light harkening from the other side.

The passenger glares at the coordinated wristwork, at once intrigued and repulsed by the machinations of the west. He shifted his hand to the long, thin sword between his legs, and glanced behind him to the carriage and their pursuers.

The interior was coated in blood, as were its occupants. In desperate moans and shouts, a young woman in bullet-pierced leather cries for a Name, though in her mind's eye, a film races, reeling between arcane sign and war photography of Krauts in Trenches. 

Beside her, a dark man lifts a metal needle from his robes. "Stay still, girl!" With a swift movement, he injects it into her arm, and the pallor of her face begins to return to its tanned, rosy state. The man mumbles a chant and places two fingers on his forehead, marked with a single eye.

The car crashes into the broad street through a wood marquee, skidding to face southbound, while passerby scatter to the fronts of the neon-lit theaters and diners. Ripping from the alleyway, another dark car with a shining silver badge at it's front nearly careens into a storefront, before clumsily backing into the street. By the time they're able to continue their pursuit, The Crow is already long gone.

* * *

The elevated train from Newtown to Boston shrieks as it passes over the heads of four young fugitives. The Crow sits quietly, its owner feverishly unbolting the engine block from the chassis. The swordsman, in a too-small suit pinned with an enameled cherry blossom, wipes down his bloody blade with a handkerchief. 

From the carriage stumbles the young girl in leather. "What the hell is your problem, you hick? You nearly killed us!"

The reply from the engineer is solemn. "You ain't dead."

The man in robes follows the girl out of the car. "It is true - we must be thankful for every day we have on this earth. How are you feeling?" The girl shrugs. The silent swordsman peers at the lot of them, his eyes dancing to the rooftops for a moment.

"Then let me count the blessings. You," she points a finger at the robed man, "decided to play that reel without checking if anyone was even in the theater. You," she turns her hand to the engineer, "brought the police, and you," she flicks her finger to the swordsman, "just had to go and fight them off." She huffs.

The robed man shakes his head, and dismisses her. "Well, young lady, he was hired to protect me - which he did admirably. I wonder why you were sleeping like a vagrant inside of a movie theater? In misfortune, we must first appraise our own decisions."

The engineer lifts the block out of the car - with his bare hands. It folds and warps, as if existing in space beyond our own, into a small metal box, which he throws into a burlap sack and slings around his back. This earns more than a handful of stares from the rest of the group. The engineer shrugs. "Don't ask me."

He slams shut the bonnet and leans against the car. "Well, I'm stuck in the city until I can find a chassis that doesn't drive me to the slammer." With an almost imperceptibly quick flick, he conjures a lit cigarette, and begins to smoke. "And since y'all were so kind to make me kill one of those sons of bitches, y'all are gonna help me find one."

The girl shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm no car thief, and I'm not exactly Thomas Wayne neither. I don't got much goin' for me, so it might be best for you to just leave me here."

The robed man, too, shakes his head. "Debts will be repaid. Speaking of which," he pulls a brilliant jade hand mirror from deep within his robe - causing the swordsman's eyes to widen slightly. "I believe this is yours. There is more where it came from - If you continue to aid me." He places it in the swordsman's hand, and he gazes into it for a moment before stuffing it into his own suit. "The reel was enough to reinvigorate it - but we'll need a safer place to return it to its full strength." The swordsman nods, solemnly, and fixes his gaze on the engineer.

"We will find you an automobile, and us a theater. And you, impudent woman - we will find someone to shut you up."


	2. Panic! At the Speakeasy

The waves of sound were bright and dark, the highs so extravagantly high, and the lows so decadently low, as to cause one to question the very nature of such a band. The depths evoked things unknown, sorrows kept in the blackest pits of the soul, and the truth we seek not - and yet, the angelic wings of the upswing, the soaring, bright, sun-filled peaks of the songs propelled the throngs of listeners to ecstacy (that, and the ecstacy). The only onlookers not moved by the swinging tunes were crowded in a shaded corner, musing over a few clear bottles of spirits, a film reel, a black cube, and a jade mirror.

"To you all, I swear, that my confidant will arrive soon. I made clear the urgency of our need - he has the resources to arrange for us our claim." His robes doffed, the black mage speaking in his proper english voice blended in to the socialites surrounding him - aside from the thick black markings coating every exposed inch of skin, forming strange and grotesque symbols and signs. He fixed the bow around the collar of his buttoned shirt, and adjusted his dark slack pants.

The leather-girl's clothes, comparatively, are rather tightly bound. Her jacket rides up onto her midriff, exposing a sliver of skin. "This guy - is he some kind of wizard too? I don't know if I can deal with too much more of that. One's enough, if they throw you in a coma." She emptied the moonshine with a single deep swig, wincing as she catches her breath and tosses the bottle aside. "I'd rather do it myself."

"Good stuff, innit? Gramps stilled that up, in an ol' radiator tin." The white man in ragged work clothes grabs the other bottle. "Thissun's the Crow special. 'En she ain't runnin, she's brewin." He pats the cube, which vibrates slightly in response. "Yessir, she's got a pair a' lungs on 'er. Could drive to the moon on that stuff." He hiccups loudly.

The swordsman stares at the jazz players on the stage, his brow furrowed.

The gas lights flicker in the room, and a slight breeze of chill air fills the space, giving most of the revelers, and the band, a second of pause. Looking to the door, they see a face they wish they did not know. The pinstripes and fedora were no cause for alarm, but the old, deep scar on the left side of his face was a bit more concerning. He strode confidently across the room, the throng of people parting around him, until he stopped at that shaded table, cutting a glance through each of its occupants, and lifting a leg to rest on the fifth, empty chair. 

"So I hear yous' guys' needs a ride, anna place to catch a flick. I can gets ya on both - if yous can make it worth my time." He grins, slyly, the right side of his face lifting more than his deadened left. As he leans on his knee, his striped suit jacket folds, showing a glint of metal tucked inside.

"I assure you," the black man says, smiling smugly, "that Mr. Crowley will more than compensate you for your aid." 

"Eh? Yeah, I guess that freak's got it covered. Hmm..." He puts a thick finger to his chin, and he eyes the woman. "Maybe I'll take a, uh, forward on that, huh?" His gaze slides down to her midriff, and the curve of her hips. "Seein' as you got some kinda prize right here." 

The girl picks herself up, gripping onto the table for balance, her face flushing. "F-fuck off. I'm not on offer, weirdo." Her face grows cross, and she grabs her seat with her off hand.

The gangster's face grows red, and he grabs the table, cracking the wood under his strength. "Hey! Ain't nobody refuse the Blockbuster." He kicks away the chair he was leaning on, and steps forward, leaning his bulk over the slight figure of the girl. "Playin' games, hard to get. Bet you're a fucking slu-"

The man's suddenly thrown back by some invisible force, clear across the hall, crashing into another booth. The table is sent flying as well, splitting into pieces, and the crowd near them gasps, a few dropping their drinks to the floor. The girl looks shocked for a moment, before wringing her eyes shut and shaking her head. "Dammit!" she cries.

The gangster, though, is unhurt. He leans up on his left arm and grabs the pistol from his coat, pointing it at the group. "Bitch!" He shouts, his voice deafening, yet oddly detached. "You fucked wit da wrong guy!"

Shots ring out, sending the crowd into a frenzy. As they begin to run wild to the exits of the underground tavern, the swordsman leaps into action, drawing his blade in an instant and catching the bullets mid-air with his deft steel. The engineer and the mage follow quickly, standing from their seats, but the psychic stays rooted for a few seconds, contemplating something. 

"I think we may have lost our help." The mage says, rather casually. Throngs of people dash between them and Blockbuster, shielding them from his fire - but for not more than a moment. The four of them look at eachother, with the exact same look in their eyes, and the exact same thought in their heads - run.


	3. Off the Rails at the Crossroads of Fate!

The elevated train screeched madly as Relic King detached the engine from the passenger cars. His honor dictated he leave innocents out of his conflicts - something he wished his employer cared for more. Gripping the humming steel rails, he looked to the street below, and the numerous black cars burning rubber against the asphalt in pursuit of them. One fat mobster leans out the window holding a submachine gun, and the swordsman swings around to the side of the car, shimmying along the narrow ledge to the open door.

Amphora, cooly but with a marked urgency, marks a magic circle in chalk on the floor, printing fine runes and complex geometries as if only signing his name. Teleka watches the road and tracks before them, one hand on the throttle, while Crow hunches over by the exposed mechanics of the engine, configuring his strange technological cube. He finishes his alterations and shoves the block into the spinning and whirring mess of pistons and sprockets. The metal seems to flow into the open engine, replacing the burnished iron parts with black alien metal. As it consumes each part, they begin to work smoother, faster, and more in synch with the machine. Fire leaps from the engine as the engineer slams shut the door, latching it, and leaps over the mage to the mess of controls at the head.

"Hey, Ibutsu-whatever, are they gaining?" The leather-clad psion calls to the swordsman, who - with a glance behind him - sees the gangsters disappearing into the shallow darkness of the tungsten-lit city. He shakes his head, and the girl breathes a sigh of relief, sinking to the floor besides the magic circle.

Amphora makes a final mark on it, and tosses a jewel and a handful of bills into the circle. "O, spirit of the road, guide us to our fated place - lead us out of danger, and closer ever to the light of the everlasting." As he chants, the ground under the circle begins to glow a strange purple light, illuminating further the interior of the car. Relic King shakes his head, but Amphora's eyes stay confidently focused on the circle - until his gaze shoots up. "Ahead! There's... Something!" He dashes away one of the interior runes with his palm, sending the purple light into a flickering state, eliciting strange sensations in the car's occupants. The engineer doubles over, clutching at his stomach, before looking forwards once again - to the sheer marble wall of the Museum of History.

The tracks bend and shift towards it, and above the tall dome of the building he spots something strange - a single piercing bolt of blue lightning, followed milliseconds later by an incredibly loud explosion, shattering the windows of the museum with a visible shockwave. Relic King stumbles into the interior of the car just as Amphora replaces the complex rune, and the circle glows once again - this time a pale silver - and the blackened Nth-metal car begins to itself glow as if lit by an unreal silver light. The group has but a second to revel in this before the train tracks twist, crackling with arcing energy, and the engine is sent careening into the museum at full speed.

* * *

Xin was holding his own against both the Phoenix cultists and the strange costumed vigilantes until the brick wall of the Oriental Exhibition burst in on them, crushing more than a few of his opponents. The glowing black train car tumbled on its side a few times, finally balancing on its base, and skidded for a number of yards to stop at Xin's feet, just inches from bowling him over. He glared at the strange intruder, and then to the massive gouge in the floor and artifacts it left in its wake - hundreds of thousands of dollars of Ming history, destroyed by... what?

The glow on the cabin faded, and the wide, sliding door burst open. Four young adults rolled out of it, clutching their chests and coughing, as a fire crackled from the inside. Xin stepped back. "How... peculiar." 

Tumbling from the car after the dazed group came a metal film canister - something that looked all too out of place among them. And yet, it had a strange air to Xin - he immediately felt that this, of all the artifacts in the room, might be the most valuable thing. He strode over the incapacitated people and crouched down, lifting the canister, and opening it. He pulled some of the reel loose and looked at the frames - and nearly forgot to breathe.

The black tattoed man pushed himself up from the floor, his gaze turning to the magical warrior - and he immediately stumbled to his feet, drawing a device clipped to his belt which he struck, conjuring a blade of flame. Xin stood, turning to the boy, and gestured with the canister of film.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked, raising the dangling end of the film strip.

"Don't touch it. It belongs to Aleistar Crowley, Master of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn." Amphora gritted his teeth, lowering himself into a fighting stance.

"It belongs to Apokalypse." Xin countered. "And if it remains with you, Apokalypse will come to reclaim it."


	4. The Call of Darkness

Sybil dashed her eyes back and forth over the throngs of people, smoothing her poodle skirt with her free hand. McKinsey, clinging to her right arm, giggled.

"Nervous, Sister? C'mon, nobody's gonna know you here. Not like they're showing up for Sunday Mass, or nothin'." She tugged Sybil forwards, into the mass of partygoers. The men wore fine suits and pencil moustaches, and the women seemed to vary between risque skirts and risque cocktail dresses. Very little was left to the imagination in Sybil's eyes - she had rarely seen women in less covering clothing than her habit.

"Oh God, forgive me." She said, marching forward on unbalanced heels. She turned her head down, away from the eyes of the people walking by - that is, until she was tugged to a halt by her partner.

"Oh God, thank you." McKinsey stood stock still, shocked - and Sybil couldn't tell for what. The flapper grabbed her by the chin and pointed her face at the center of the room - where a very handsome, tall, broad-shouldered man stood, surrounded by an infinite number of people. Her ears toned in on the gossip - a talent developed early on in the convent - and began to burn bright red.

"It's him!" People whispered around them. "That pilot! The one in the magazines!" Sybil knew exactly who they were talking about - if only because McKenzie gushed to her about it so much. That Pilot - who kept his actual name private - was the recent darling of the press, for his daring stunt show on tour, as well as his incredible stories from the war. His own word was far less impressive than the rumors circulating about him - that he would singlehandedly battle entire squadrons, or rode alongside cavalry charges, or dodged artillery fire like a ballet dancer on the wind. "The Pilot" seemed to be the only name he needed, because if there ever was a quintessential barnstormer, it was him.

McKinzie stammered. "I-it's him. It's actually him. Should I try and talk to him? No, he wouldn't dare talk to me. Look at me, I- oh gosh, it's him!" Sybil rolled her eyes - McKinzie found a new celebrity to fall in love with every time she saw the newsreel. 

"You know, he might be interested in someone half his age. You should ask." She replies, dryly. "In fact, he's travelled the world - he probably has lovers on every continent."

McKinsey playfully slapped Sybil's arm. "Don't say that." She warned. "He's a good man. He'd never string a girl along like that."

"Whatever you say." The pair watched as the Pilot slowly made his way to the edge of the room, taking multiple detours as influential people dragged him to their friends. Minutes later, he reached the wall, and slipped through a small, surreptitious door, glancing back to see if he was being watched. Sybil and McKenzie voyeured, brows furrowed and curious, as he disappeared as soon as he arrived.

"Hm. That's a shame. Here I thought he was a socialite." Sybil shook her head, but McKinsey smiled. 

"Wait! This is our chance! We can go catch him round the back! Come on, Sister!" She tugged Sybil along once again, though she kept up easier this time than the last. They pushed through to the edge of the room, and made their way along the wall to the door that the Pilot had left through. With a swift motion, McKensie opened it and slipped through, leaving Sybil alone for the moment. She looked over her shoulder, almost on principle, and saw only the backs of the heads of half the wealth of the city. She made careful to close the door lightly behind her.

The door led not to an alleyway, but to a sort of staging area - there were scaffolds, gaffing, and facade-like construction materials covered in canvas tarps. McKinsey stepped out into the wide space, looking left and right, her heels clacking loudly against the concrete floor and echoing into the unlit darkness.

"Where did he go?" McKinsey asks. Sybil's eyes only begin to adjust, when her trained ears hear a familiar voice to the rear of the venue. She grabs McKinsey's shoulder and claps a hand over her mouth, drawing the two of them into silence. Her flushed ears nearly twitch.

"O, spirit of darkness... come to me, and bind yourself to this host... become a great destroyer, become the bane of life... become the harbinger of the coming apocalypse."

Sybil spins in place, sprinting towards the sound of the voice - before she trips over her own feet, falling on her hands and knees to the floor. McKinsey dashes after her, much more used to running in her heels. Frustrated, Sybil kicks away her shoes and stands up, silk stockings providing no barrier against the icy cold concrete. 

The two reach the barrier of shadow, but behind an object draped in canvas, a dark glow pulses, along with more chanting, in Latin. They dash around the tarp, and see the Pilot - and a tall, imposing nun.

"Mother Superior!" Sybil cries out, unintentionally. McKensie's eyes, though, are drawn to the Pilot - his eyes glazed over, his posture stiff, and standing in the middle of a strange circle on the ground - the same circle from which the black light pulses. She cries out and sprints forward, leaping to tackle the Pilot out of the strange, arcane device, but is struck aside by the confident fist of the nun; far stronger than any horseless carriage, as she's flung meters back into the darkness.

Sybil dashes forwards, sliding on her stockings into place between Mother Superior and the Pilot. "What are you doing to this man?" She asks, sweat running down her temple, drawing a line in her powdered makeup. 

The nun looks at her, eyes somber with darkness. "Sister Ytrea, you should not interrupt me. Wearing that - you harlot. Do not expect to escape punishment once I return."

Sybil stands firm. "Mother, please - I don't know why you're doing this, but stop. You shouldn't call upon such frightful things!"

"I will not tolerate -" Mother superior begins to speak, but is cut off by a loud clapping noise - as McKinsey sprints from the darkness once again, completely uninjured by the incredible blow, and leaping for the Pilot. Mother Superior raises her hand once more, coating it in dark energy, but Sybil stepps in her way, receiving a sudden, and powerful, strike directly to the chest. As if time were a reel played at half the speed, she feels the energy course through her body, and knock her backwards, directly onto the magic circle, while the Pilot and McKinsey crash to the floor behind her.

The light begins to glow an even stronger, more potent shade of black; as if drawn from the abyss of hell's shadow itself. In Sybil's body, she feels a sickening explosion of energy, all from the circle. A pair of dark hands grip hers from the infinite pool beneath her, and her consciousness begins to fade, a single blood-curdling scream striking through the black.


	5. The Dark Knight Enters the Shadows

Bruce Wayne glanced with a side-eyed view as the two young women followed the Pilot out of the rear door. He was unsure what they were up to - and he wasn't entirely sure that he should follow. His keen intuition told him that whatever he was up to was no good - but he knew he had people to speak to, and partnerships to forge. He looked to his right, at the woman by his side - some blonde fling he had met last week.

"Darling, you look parched - let me get you a glass of water." He smiled cooly at her, and she giggled, blowing a kiss while she let go of his arm. He walked off and almost made it to the door - before being gripped by the shoulder and spun around.

Before him stood a tall, obscenely beautiful woman, in a dark, tight sequined dress that reached all the way from her knees to her collar. On her head, a headscarf that looked suspiciously familiar - cat ears. Of course.

"Selena, how nice to see you."

She pursed her lips. "Bruce. I always see you running from parties - never enjoying yourself. Never experiencing..." She brushed a hand on his chest, pursuing some imaginary dust, "the moment." She dangled a cigarette from her fingers, the smoke drifting listlessly into the air.

"I don't know what you mean, Selena. I was just going to find a server and grab a glass of water." He smirks. "If I had any problem enjoying myself at these things, I wouldn't come, now would I?" His hand fell into place along her hip, and he took a step closer, the pair's eyes on a near-perfect level.

"Well, then I suppose you wouldn't abandon your party to see what your friend back there is up to, now would you?" Selena glanced past Bruce to the shut door.

He chuckled. "No, but I might abandon it to... say, 'enjoy the moment'?" He reached a hand behind him to pull the door open, and leveraged his grip on her waist to tug her through into the dark staging area.

Selena took the opportunity as the door closed behind Bruce to pin him against it with a kiss; this was their secret habit, after all, and they could only indulge so often, and for so long a time.

That is, until a young woman bounced through Bruce's field of view - literally, like a pigskin ball, out of the shadows and across the concrete floor, until she skidded to a stop on her bare feet, her heels clattering to the floor beside her. She immediately began sprinting back into the darkness at the rear of the building. His wide eyes followed her, completely ignoring the beautiful New Woman in front of him in favor of the ridiculous sight before his eyes.

Selena pulls back, disappointment on her face. "Bruce, you're wooden. Don't tell me..." He grips her by the waste and nearly lifts her off of him, pushing her off the wall and giving him space to begin his sprint to the shadows. Selena stands, shaken, for a moment, before following him - keeping pace with his sprint even in her gangly shoes and tight dress.

Mother Superior curses in language unknown to man, and grabs Sybil by her arm with a grip of steel. "I suppose I'll make do." As Bruce and Selena round the obstruction, she pulls her from the rapidly darkening circle and into a tight embrace, while the black illumination fades, leaving them all in utter shadow.

Selena strikes her lighter, producing a small flame by which the pair see an empty space and the crumpled forms of the Pilot and that girl.

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't know where they went?" McKinsey screams as Bruce kneels in front of her.

"I mean that I don't know, young lady. If I did, I'd tell you. But, considering they were Nuns, she was probably brought off to discipline her. If you must find her, look to the cathedral - but, to be honest, you'd be best off leaving it alone. Saying you saw magic - honestly, I'm worried for your head. Are you hurt?" He was a practiced bluffer, and this small amount of gaslighting was necessary to keep both his identity and her sanity safe for the time being. She shook her head and stood shakily, refusing his help.

"Fine. If you won't say, then I'll just go myself." She stormed out through the service entrance, onto the city street. Bruce made after her, but Selena stopped him.

"Let her go. There's more dangerous things here to worry about." She looked to the Pilot. "What about you? What's your story here?"

He shrugged. "About the same as hers, actually - if you'll believe me, Bruce." Bruce sighed. 

"Of course, Pilot. A nun, and a dark magic spell. I suppose she took control of your body - you'd never be seduced by that brick of a woman." He scoffs, and scratches his head. Pilot begins to enter a tirade about how women of every size have something to offer, but Bruce cuts him off. "Let's focus on the case. If there's magic involved, I can't be sure what we need to do. We need to find someone, fast. Is Fate in town?"

Pilot shakes his head. "None of them are, as far as I know. If it's demons, we might be best off with someone like that Crowley..." He puts a finger to his chin.

Selena smiles, taking a pull of her cigarette. "If it's Crowley, then you may be in luck. Earlier today, I sold off something I stole *ages* ago from a collector in Little Tokyo. Nothing special, just a jade mirror. Still, the kid I sold it to explained that he was an agent of that freak. Looked the part, too - covered head to toe in tattoos." She smugly blew a puff of smoke. "He should still be in town. Best case, he can handle our problem for us. Worst case, he can call in the artillery."

Bruce sighs. "Alright, then, Selena. Where can we find this man?"


	6. Small Talk, Big Plans

"My grandfather told me of them. As time goes on, our own technology advances slowly to their state - to him, this would be like a Verne book. '30,000 Leagues', 'Time Machine', 'King in Yellow' - 'Motherbox'." Xin rambles to the young men and woman following him through damp tunnels. "They're hell-bound on conquering, our world and others. Some kind of Manifest Destiny, huh?"

Amphora shakes his head. "Come on - Master Crowley is an expert on the phenomena of other worlds, and has communicated with the angel Aiwass. How could he have no knowledge of this?" He ducks under a pipe, and looks at dismay at his soaked-through leather shoes.

"Because Crowley's a freak, who gets off on energy. He doesn't care about the real order of things." Xin shrugs. "Besides, even if he knows, he wouldn't tell you. He's got bigger things to worry about - like whatever the hell's on your face."

Teleka laughs, her tall boot slipping off the masonry and sending her into the rush of sewage - but she's caught by Crow, who appears by her as if instantaneous.

"Don't get wet now." He quietly mutters, staring ahead.

"Why are you helping us,  _ Chankoro _ ?" Relic King snapped at Xin, whose hands arced electricity by reflex into the brick walls.

"Because,  _ Riben Gou _ , I don't want to send this city on a one-way trip to hell, like you four are doing." He gripped a tight fist, for a moment, before breathing out slowly and deeply. "And I don't have time for nonsense. I'm getting this reel into safe hands. You can come or not - either way, I'm keeping this."

"That won't happen." Amphora stoically refutes Stormdrake as he follows him to a drainage ditch. "But I'll follow you."

* * *

As the night grows shorter and the clock turns ever-forwards, Batman, Catwoman, and the Pilot are racing through the streets. Bruce Wayne, in a hastily-donned cowl and overcoat, drives with one hand and manipulates the radio in his car with the other. He speaks into the receiver loudly, with great pause.

"Alfred! My man, come in! Do you have the location of our wizard?" When he releases the switch, the radio buzzes quietly, before picking up.

"Yes, sir, indeed - There was an all-points bulletin sent to the Bat-Wire regarding a train crashing into the Museum of History - and a number of individuals, one of whom matches Miss Kyle's description, fled into a sewer pipeline. My, you might have something in common." The voice is choppy, and cuts out in parts - but the message is preserved.

"The sewers are where rats and bats live, Alfred. Don't overthink it." The machine begins to hum and whine, and then it sparks out. Bruce smashes the console with his fist. "Damn thing! Blasted radio - who needs that piece of junk?" Selena smiles from the passenger seat, amused.

"My dear, you should know that radio is the future - why, without wires, you could go anywhere."

"Yeah, and my buddies at the RAF were telling me about the kind of malarkey they get up to with radios in planes. Eyes in the air, far away as you need."

"You know, I've still got my Ejector Seats installed. I can give you a pair of eyes in the sky."

"Eyes  _ on  _ the sky, Bruce." Selena brushes her hand against Bruce's jaw, directing it upwards. The sky was lit with soft lavender of the moon, and the clouds were beginning to darken and gather around the city, like a vortex. In the distance, the rocky hill at the edge of the city began to burn and spark, as if casting away that same darkness.

"Something's happening - and I think I know where we need to go." Bruce calls out, saying exactly what everyone else was thinking. With a sharp tug, he pulled the wheel, sending the Batmobile careening onto the eastbound avenue.


	7. The Beginning of the End, Pt. 1

Pilot had to avert his eyes while the Cat-Woman donned her risque costume, though the Bat-Man made no such concessions as he stuffed his hastily folded suit into a trunk. Instead, Pilot busied himself with his equipment - drawing a secured handgun from his coat and preparing for a fight.

"You know I hate guns, friend. They're all boister and no tact. You'd do well to leave it behind." Bruce speaks over Pilot's shoulder, startling the poor man to nearly drop his piece.

"Bruce - Bat-Man, I would love to lay down my arms the moment Sister Satanus isn't calling for the end of the world." He chuckled and cocked the mechanical gun. "Don't fret, this is something the boys in the club cooked up - tranquilizers, for capturing specimens on safari. One dart carries enough paralytic toxin to stop an elephant in its tracks - but nobody will die."

Bruce furrows his brow. "They've developed something similar at the Asylum. I don't like the sound of it, but... It will have to do." 

The car door opened, and the leggy cat-burgular pulled herself from the upholstery. Pilot let out a soft whistle, to which Bruce cut him a look.

"Well, boys, are you going to stare, or do we have a wizard to track down?" She smirked and unraveled a sturdy bullwhip, looking around at their surroundings.

Bruce had parked the car in a dark corridor between tall, blocky buildings near the edge of town. Pilot knew exactly where they were - the city's airfield, where he had planned a tour the following afternoon.

"I've arranged for my personal biplane to be stored here while I'm in town, in case such a case emerged. We'll take it up the mountain, it shouldn't take us more than a few minutes." The trio glanced towards the growing vortex above the reaching peak, and could swear they heard laughter in the buffeting winds.

"Can you fly in those conditions?" Selena held worry in her tone.

"Miss Kyle, please - there's a reason the papers are calling me the best pilot in the world. I've flown surges twice that size over the Pacific, and have conquered hurricanes before lunch. I'll get us there, safe and sound."

* * *

Xin placed his hands together and mumbled a short prayer, before touching that hand on the manhole above him. The text cast on it shifted to Han Chinese characters, and when he pushed it aside, the sudden drop in air pressure disturbed everyone but Crow.

The group found themselves much further than a few hundred yards down the sewer tunnel, and as they emerged they saw the city spread out beneath them, looking for all its glow like a model of itself; to be constructed, studied, and one day destroyed.

"This Gate - you've been here a while." Amphora comments. 

Xin nods. "My people built this city. Poor, hungry, huddled masses yearning to be free. We built these people's roads and houses, and their sewers. They thank us by collecting our history in their museums and throwing us to the wayside."

"Then why are you fighting for it in the first place?" Teleka cuts in, wrapping her leather coat tighter around herself for the wind.

"Because I share in the dream of tomorrow; that our hopes may one day be met with justice. No masters, no profit."

Crow spat into the wind off the mountainside cliff. "Whatever you say. Let's just get moving. I don't like what's happening to the storm."

Xin clutched the canister - the Mothertape - close to his side. "They feel its presence, and they're coming for it. They know where we're taking it - so we must defend it." He begins following the mountain path, leaving the mysterious manhole open.

"Who are 'they', anyway? You've been rather vague on the matter." Amphora rushes after him, pulling his long coat over his suit. The rest follow quickly.

"The cult of Apokalypse - the League of Crime, the Internationale. They serve that other world's ends, whether in playing for power or simply for their own pleasure. I don't know much about them - only what I've heard from my... associates. Sickening stories of what they do to people, all for their master - DeSade."

Amphora chuckles. "Surely, not that one - who penned his  _ Confessions _ ?"

"That's what they call him. If you've read the  _ Confessions _ , you know what he is - Satan himself. A slave to his dark side."

The tacit swordsman shakes his head. "These fools serve some long-dead French invert? Another lie."

"It is no lie, only legend. Now quiet, we're nearly there - and you will show respect to my grandfather."

"Do as he says, friend. We'll get ours soon enough." Amphora places a hand on Ibutsu-o's shoulder - who shakes him off.

"Once you pay me what I am owed for the service in that filthy club and on that ridiculous engine, I am no longer with you. This has gone too far." He scowls. "And I *will* be paid what I am owed."

The group makes their way through the light vegetation to a more sheer cliff face, one which opens near the base to show a lit cave entrance, supported by a wooden door. All four look about to comment before Xin shushes them with a confident wave of his palm. Above them, the vortex spins rapidly, and lightning seems to be arcing between the clouds.

" _ Grandfather, I am here. I have the Terrible Box, and those who seek to claim it _ ."

Thunder rumbles as he finishes his statement, and Xin lets out a deep breath. "We will not be alone. There will be more coming - and this is where it will happen." He holds out the box to the four of them, and shifts his eyes to the lot, scanning them with inscrutably sparkling irises. "You," he says, gesturing to Teleka. "You've seen the horrors within this. I trust you to understand the stakes here."

She scoffs, putting a hand on her hip. "Look, I don't know what the hell's going on - whoever's coming to claim it, they're not my business. Can't I just wait inside?"

"No. Part of the information stored on this tape now rests in you. If they cannot have it, you will most likely suffice - that is, your mind; not your health." Xin drops it into her hands. "If either of you are taken, the battle is lost. Yet, I understand that you're more than you seem. There's power within you, girl, and you just have not shown it."

Teleka sighs, her head drooping down low. "Fine. Don't expect me to be quiet, then." She slips the case under her coat, and squeezes it tight to her stomach. "You're going to see how loud I can be."


	8. The Beginning of the End, Pt. 2

Stormdrake, he imagined, was the name. The one they'd print on the front of the special edition, sunday newspaper. When he saved their lives, one more time, they'd give him the recognition he deserves. The Bat-Man gets it all the time - and hardly anyone's ever seen the man. When he saved the day, people on the radio spoke about it. When the Super-Man, who they say dressed like a circus strongman, saves the day... he's a hero. Stormdrake, though, is not a hero, because nobody allowed him to be.

Tonight would be different. 

Crow had dragged something from the treeline - a cannon, last fired from the Civil War. Already he had the thing prepared to fire - it seemed that metal was his domain. The black box he loaded down the muzzle seemed to work miracles. 

Amphora and Relic King stood ten paces apart, doffing their formalwear - where Amphora pulled apart his shirt to reveal swathes of ink poured over his flesh, the Relic King donned thick-plated armor he gathered from seemingly nowhere - reaching through the fold, into his ancestral armory.

Teleka, for her part, refused to be quiet. She spoke aloud her every thought, from that on the disturbing weather, to the strange nature of the night so far, to her unsuited clothes for the temperature. As she continued, she simply divested herself - she began to speak candidly about her past. That when she fled her home, she found her past was gone - and her future seemed in doubt. That she had lived alone a year, sleeping in hostels and any unlocked buildings - stealing and working for scraps, to get by. How she could listen to what people wanted, what they hated, what they thought about her, without a word. How she could reach outside herself, and how she was scared of what that would do to her, and if she was a monster or a witch.

"Neither. You are a dear young girl, who was given the worst of everything." Xin calmly reflected, sitting on a rough-hewn log in his armor. "We are alike; we seek only a path forwards, but hope for the path to heaven."

She shrugs. "Honestly, I just... I want to see my friends again." She considers him - that peerless Name - and washes the sorrow from her heart. "Whatever was gathering has stopped - look at the sky."

The warriors looked skyward and saw, indeed - the vortex had frozen, as if in place, and began to glow with a deep, unnatural hue. Crow, not one who suffered the strangeness of this night, sparked a match along the fuse of his gun, casually pulling it up to his lips to light a quickly-rolled cigarette. As it fired, the shockwave echoed down the mountain and into the sky - breaking the stalemate in the heavens, and releasing the flood of rain down to the earth.

The vortex, where the cannonball ripped a wide hole, began to rumble, now moving as chaos. The storm had been keeping this at bay - had been keeping that strange glow stuck within the clouds, harassed by the lightning. But Xin's Grandfather could do no more, and so down came the horror.

It was a great black beast, with chains dangling from its wide and strong limbs to the hands of a large, imposing woman. As the clouds around her broke, a wider shape began to seem clear - an oblong balloon - a zeppelin. She stood on a platform hung from its side, wrapping the dark chains tighter in her fist, lashed to the shadow beast below.

The thing snarled and cried like thunder, echoing down the cliffs; it was only the chains that kept it from bounding down the mountain, though it stalked like a tiger in the air, with no platform to speak of.

"Is... Is that the cult of Apocalypse?" Teleka asked, a bead of sweat dripping from her temple.

"Yes. And it's unlikely they intend to parley." Amphora confirmed, flipping out the device from his belt and conjuring a large flaming blade from its spout. "When that thing comes down here, we'll stay between you and it."

"I will be recieving ample compensation for this task in the honor of ending this demon. Allow me the final blow." Relic King's eyes furrowed in fury as he drew from nothing his grass-cutting sword and demon-slaying bow, and it took all his self-control to not bound into the sky for the beast.

"Protecting the girl and the film are most important - not for honor, but for duty to your fellow man." Stormdrake assured him, drawing the Claw of the Dragon King, a Ming-style arming sword, from its scabbard, and drawing round shield from his back.

Crow finished ramming the cannonball down the muzzle, took one last drag from his cigarette, and stuffed it down the fuse's pinhole. The cannon fired directly at the platform the nun stood on, who raised a hand to defend herself - stopping the projectile midair, but dropping the beast's chains. Just as well - they would die regardless.

The three swordsmen lept into battle to meet the beast, as it raced towards the peak of the mountain and then down along its harsh face to pounce on the warriors. In a moment the three had divided its attention, dashing in and out of its path to take measured swings at its limbs and underbelly. However, their weapons did little - when the beast was cut, the shadows simply closed around the blade, and when it was harassed by fire or lightning, it simply consumed the energy and grew even more fierce. 

Crow was the first to call it - they wouldn't last the next minute if they couldn't penetrate its weakness. Then, in a moment, he saw it. The iron cannon he had fired was angled awkwardly upwards, to hit that zeppelin, but doing so in the clearing had unintended consequences - a bolt of lightning arcing down from the clouds to destroy the remaining functional action and blow out the supporting truss. In the flash of brightness, the beast stumbled in its step - no more than a moment, but still more than what they needed.

"Light! It's some kind of shadow monster - use light!" He cried to the group, who spun around, confused. Then, Stormdrake raised his sword to the sky, calling an arc of plasma to meet his blade, and a blinding flash that would not abet with time. Relic King, who nearly tripped at the sudden explosion, paused and closed his eyes, drawing an arrow in his bow and firing where the creature was - and where it stood, shocked and paralyzed by the light.

The arrow pierced its side, carving holy vengeance into its form and sending it toppling to the ground. However, they could not celebrate - for the sound of thunder had given way to a different noise. 

"Is that a bird?" Crow turned his head.

"No, it's a plane!" Teleka shouted.

"No - It's... a plane!" Amphora... also shouted.

The biplane flew fearlessley through the storm, with three passengers clinging to it for dear life - including a strange figure that seemed to be... preparing to jump?

Batman gripped the prototype and pulled it onto his back. Selena gripped his shoulder: "Are you sure that thing's safe?"

"Of course! Wayne Industries only hires the best! And if it isn't... Well, I had quite the night." He grabs Catwoman by the back of the head and pulls her into a deep kiss, only pulling away to leap into the air and activate the strange machine. As it began to groan, a flame lit within it, and two jets of white-hot fire appeared from its engines, thrusting the Batman through the air at ridiculous speed towards the fallen beast, and the people who stood around it.

As he pulled himself upright for a smoother landing, he looked to the lot of them - a strange assortment of people, from around the world it seemed. Including that agent of Crowley's that Selena described. 

"Oh, good, you've handled the beast. I suppose I was worried for nothing. I am-"

"The Batman. Yes, you've come to save the day. I'll tell you now it needs no saving from you, for I am Stormdrake, and I'm protecting this city."

Bruce chuckles. "Well, glad to hear it. What's your plan for the zeppelin?"

"I plan to call on the storm. This mountain is my domain - the Sky Sanctuary. It shall not be sullied by her evil magics."

Batman shrugged. "That sounds good to me - but I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. She's kidnapped a young woman, and we need to find her."

"Another girl to save? No, I am finished." Relic King places the bow on his shoulder, and looks at the others.

"The best of luck to you, but we have more pressing matters." Amphora shook his head.

"I can't save one girl, let alone two." Teleka shakes her head, clutching the Mothertape closer to her body.

Bruce paused. "Well, I guess there aren't any heroes among you, excepting of you, knight. This is your sky - defend it." He kicked off the ground with the thrusters, hovering into the air. Crow's eyes followed him closely, marvelling at the device as the Batman soared into the air towards the Zeppelin -

and was struck by a dark blast from the imposing woman above, sending him careening towards the ground and skidding along the dirt.

Pilot and Catwoman watched in horror from above as he fell, but were caught off guard by the shifting of weight within the plane - a hand gripped the side of the cockpit, and pulled itself over the edge. The girl who saw Sybil be taken, it was - McKinsey, still in her silk stockings and poodle skirt. As the two passengers gawked, she gripped them by their shirts in a surprisingly tight fist, before balking herself.

"You're the pilot! And... wow. Uh... Help me save her. Help me save my friend!" 

Selena looked down at the ground - the young wizard she had met earlier that day was racing towards the crashed figure of batman, and drawing strange devices from his bundled robes. She looked back at McKinsey, and asked herself a question - what would Bruce do?


	9. The Middle of the End, Pt. 3

Amphora assessed the man's condition as best he could, ripping the strange device from his back and tossing it to the side, turning the Batman to his back. For a second, he paused - before reaching towards the base of the cowl. More curious men had fallen for lesser temptations...

But his hand was stopped by the grip of another. Stormdrake held him back from examining his face. "There's no man under that mask. Just the Bat-man. That's all he should be. Do you understand?"

Amphora nodded. "So it shall be." He pulled the syringe from his robes, and filled it from a golden vial. It was best to inject it into the neck, in case he had a snapped spine, but... Amphora went for the leg. Never give freely, that which can be bargained for.

Crow, however, wasn't too interested in the Batman - his attentions fell to the strange prototype. It was crude, and he could see the direction they were going - but they'd need something way stronger, way lighter, and way more aerodynamic to achieve good results. Thankfully, he had just the thing.

It only took a moment for Crow to modulate his Black Box to accept the prototype, and once he attached it, it began to take proper form. He lifted it, feeling out the balance of the machine, and strapped it to his back. It was almost automatic - his body called for the freedom this strange engine could give him. The speed, the power - the agency. Something felt... right with the world. He activated the jet turbines, and turned his attention to the Zeppelin. He knew what his Black Box could do to voodoo. He knew real goddamn well.

The Pilot's path was met by stormdrake, who climbed the air on large wings of lightning, and some kid who had taken Bruce's machine. As he approached, Pilot shouted across the winds. 

"That's not yours, kid! You better give it back!"

In his drawling voice, Crow offered a reply. "No chance in hell, hotshot. How about we do this together?" He pulled a knife from seemingly nowhere, and sped along in front of the plane, at some ridiculous, unachievable speeds. Pilot was baffled - only moreso when the kid called back to him. "Watch this, city boy!"

Mother superior glared at the advancing fools. She raised her hand, and a bright-dark shimmering ward appeared before her - something pilot obviously feared, given their last encounter. Crow, however, knew no fear. He rocketed towards the barrier, and then at the last second cut off his engines, tumbled forwards, and struck the barrier with his alien, dark metal. For a second, it shimmered - and then exploded in force, lashing tendrils of magic splitting like wires pulled too taut. Pilot followed in behind him, and then Stormdrake, riding a surge of lightning, to pierce through the Zeppelin in the form of his patron - the Divine Dragon.

Crow and Catwoman gracefully landed on the platform, a dozen yards from the tall, stock-still, and imposing nun. She stared them down with a scowl on her face - and stony cold eyes. McKinsey's attempt, though, was not as successful - she fell harshly, collapsing on impact and skidding across the steel deck and hurtling over the edge - were it not for Catwoman's whip, which wrapped around her wrist and barely halter her tumble. Pilot began strafing the airship with gunfire, and Stormdrake seemed to have disappeared into the depths of the machine. 

"You're foolish, if you think to defy me." Mother Superior holds her arms crossed behind her back. "You think my beast defeated, but you are wrong." As she speaks, the shadow creature that lay in a heap on the ground began to glow with that same black light, and stirred once again, pulling itself to its feet, stretching and changing shape. Catwoman was the first to speak.

"Where is the girl? Give her over, now!" Bruce had been searching for her - and he would prioritize the hostages.

But the Nun only chuckled. "Sister Ytrea has given herself to me - she has become victim to her Dark Side. Just as you will, once I get my hands on that tape." She glanced down at the beast - which was standing, as those on the ground began to notice, drawing their weapons to approach.

McKinsey's eyes flashed. "No... No! They don't know!"

Relic King pulled a drum from thin air and beat it once with a thick mallet - causing a burst of lightning above, which cowed the beast for a moment. He struck it again, and lightning arced towards the trees - as he beat it, lightning danced around the sky and in the trees, blinding the demon.

Teleka was freaking out. If they couldn't kill this thing - if the damn *Bat-Man* couldn't do anything - what chance did she have? As she backed away from the warriors and demons, she backed into the cannon Crow had fired - upright, and marred by lightning. Suddenly, she was struck - not by lightning, but by brilliance. She placed one hand on her temple, and another outstretched towards the pillar of iron. She had never lifted something this heavy - only coffee mugs, and a few people. But, even as pressure built in her head, she could feel it - her strength. It was within her.

With a surge of force, she tossed it into the air, where it fell squarely into the back of that strange shadow demon, cowering from the light. Relic King grinned as he pounded the drum, eager to slay the demon where it stood, and he called forth the lightning to burn away the sin and rot and filth of the underworld. 

But McKinsey stood in its way - having lept from the zeppelin, fallen thousands of feet squarely into the path of that bolt, and as it crashed into her, her body was... perfectly fine. 

The lightning hit her body and stopped entirely - trying as it might, there was no way down. The ions dissappated into the air, but the burning heat still penetrated her chest. As she fell, her spine hit the base of the cannon, folding in half, and sending her tumbling down on top of the impaled beast, caressing its massive, featureless head.

"Sybil... It's me... You gotta wake up, yeah?" She whispered, her little breath remaining failing as she spoke those last words.

Catwoman shouted as she crumpled to the floor, and Mother Superior grinned. "A fool's errand, trying to save the damned." Selena turned to her, rage in her eyes, and she dashed for the woman. Blood-red arcs of light shot from her eyes, bending and dancing around in the air even as Selena's cat-like reflexes danced around them. It wasn't enough, though, as she fell to the floor, and they barrelled towards her.

The Zeppelin burst into flame, as Stormdrake emerged, covered in tendrils of shadow that he burned away with arcing electricity. He dashed towards Mother Superior and sent his sword into her chest. Crow, taking the opportunity, dashed for the Catwoman, barely pulling her from the beam's path, as the deck burst into a massive explosion. 

The three of them descended to the ground out of necessity, Stormdrake driving the blocky woman towards the earth. His blade pinned her to the earth, sending blood to her lungs, spewing out of her mouth. He stepped back and cut through the bindings on her wrist - the dark chains that bound the demon. In seconds, the beast shrank in form, until only a young girl in a poodle skirt remained, clutched in the arms of her best and only friend.

The clouds began to spin again, covering the fallling remains of the airship, which disappeared from view. A disgruntled Relic King, a blood-covered Stormdrake, and a head-aching Teleka stood in the clearing, while Amphora kept the Batman stable. Crow carried the Catwoman down to the earth, and she dropped to Batman's side. "B-Batman, are you okay? Speak to me!"

Lightly, he breathed his affirmation. "Alive... Girl..."

She spun, and grabbed the young wizard by his side. "Save that girl and you'll have all the pointless trinkets you desire."

He grinned. "Say no more." He rushed off to aid the two teen girls, who were barely conscious and staring each other in the eyes.

"Let's go to another party, Sybil." McKinsey whispered to her friend. "Another big one - but one for us. A birthday party. We're gonna get dressed up in dresses, and dance with some cute boys... Doesn't that sound fun, Sybil?"

"You shouldn't be alive, girl. Your bones.... Hm." Amphora draws the last of his serum from the vial, and looks to McKinsey. "Which of you does the Batman care for?" 

She speaks, breathlessly. "Her."


	10. After the End, Somehow; Pt 4

Sybil awoke to a scream, though it was not her own. 

She tried to open her eyes, but she was in complete darkness. Desparate, afraid, she grasped around blindly - and grabbed something. She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was more darkness, and silence. Absence.

She pulled whatever it was closer - her strength returning fast, though her senses were dulled. The screaming continued.

"Girl? Sybil? She's awake, here, come here." The screaming stopped - she heard voices. She placed a hand on her head. 

"I can't see." She muttered, finding purchase within her own throat. 

"Dark magics. I shall abate it." In a moment, she felt something wash over her face - hands rubbing something into her eyes. She nearly felt like screaming herself, until the light filtered in. 

Seeing again, she simply looked around the room. It was... a cave. To her right, was McKensie - bent backwards in an unnatural position. Seeing this, she really did scream, but she was silenced by a strange man, who crouched before her mat on the floor and placed a finger on his lips.

"Shh, shh, Sybil. You're alright. Miss McKensie is... She'll be okay. I've never seen anything like her. One of a kind. Tell her, miss."

"Sybil..." McKensie whispered. "Just... wait..."

"I am Amphora, a... healer. You were saved by your friend, there - and the Bat-Man, though he had help." He smiles and moves besides the other young girl. "Her spine is... misaligned - but I have learned from the greatest gurus." He places a hand on her back, another on her shoulder, and pulls the girl upright - accompanied by a sick snapping sound, and another scream from McKensie.

In a second, Sybil bound from the floor and socked Amphora in the face, sending him to the hard cave floor and knocking him out cold. 

"Sybil, it's fine... I'm alright. I... He said... I have flesh like rubber, whatever that means. See?" She reaches for the floor, and pushes herself onto her knees - with another loud pop from her back. "I'm fine."

Sybil drops in front of her and wraps her arms around her. "I... I saw everything. What happened... I couldn't stop myself, she-"

"She's gone." The Bat-Man stepped in the room - his trademarked cowl, what people described as the bat - it was real. "For good, I'd say, unless there are any more miracles on the way." He looks down at the unconcious man. "That man saved your life, you know. Though he did not do it out of the goodness of his heart."

"You're... Bruce Wayne. I followed you. Sorry." McKensie coughs and stretches her back out.

His face dropped, but it seemed he expected this. "I was careless. But it seems that there's nothing to do about it. You must keep this secret, and I'm prepared to make you two very wealthy young ladies."

"Make it three." Teleka says, appearing in the doorway.

"Mr. Wayne, you are quite the fighter." Relic King stands beside her.

"And you got a nice machine here." Crow raises the prototype.

Xin walks in, and glances at all of them, resting on Batman. "I am Stormdrake." He pulls off his helmet. "But you may call me Xin. Mr. Wayne, I'd like to think I had that situation handled... but thank you."

Bruce chuckles, removing the cowl. "My, quite the precocious lot, aren't you? Well, the cat's out of the bag now, I suppose." 

"Do not fret. I respect that you keep your lives separated." 

Sybil coughs, and then shudders to her feet. "I... what now?"

"Now, my dear, you rest. Our friend, Xin - the Storm Drake, I quite like that - has offered you his ancestral home, but I can have you placed under the finest care until you feel yourself again. I'm to understand that posession is rather distressing. Though...I think there may be some lasting damage."

"What about him? What did he do?" She points at the tattoed man she knocked out.

"He stabilized you with his tinctures, but I would not trust him. He was the cause of this mess." Relic King inserts. "He knows not with what he tinkers."

"I'll phone the commissioner, when I have the chance. If I'm to understand, he's been participating in illegal fencing, as well as breaking and entering. If what you told me is correct, as well, he has ties to the mafia - more than enough to lock him away."

"Wait." Xin puts a hand on Batman's shoulder. "He knows more than he lets on. And besides - this wasn't the only incident to come. Miss, the Reel." He holds out a hand to Teleka, who, after a second, hands over the case for the Mothertape. "This is what they were after - and they knew I would take it here. If what you said is true, then it was well in advance of my decision to come. There are dark forces afoot - things coming beyond the pale. Apokolips."

Bruce pauses, and pulls the cowl over his head once more. "I see. And when these things come, we will not be able to face them alone."

"No. I... saw it." Sybil reaches for a charred stick from a lit brazier, and draws an Ω on the stone floor. "They're worse than tonight. And we need to watch out."

"Then it seems there's no time to lose. You three - will you help?"

Teleka, Relic King, and Crow look taken aback. "Us?" Teleka asks. "We're not heroes."

"You've fooled me so far."

"If it means slaying more demons, I would not hesitate."

"If you've got more machines like this, I'm yours."

"I guess... I guess I know you better than I know anyone else. And I don't want to let the world end. I'm with you."

"I won't let what happened to me, happen to anyone else."

"Sybil... I'm beside you."

Xin nods. "Then it's settled. The League of Heroes."

"You know, Xin, you have a knack for branding. The League of Heroes. I've got some calls to make."


End file.
